


A Single Flashing, Throbbing Moment.

by sweetbutterbliss



Category: Inception (2010)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-24
Updated: 2014-08-24
Packaged: 2018-02-14 12:03:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 2,412
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2191122
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sweetbutterbliss/pseuds/sweetbutterbliss
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"There is never a time or place for true love. It happens accidentally, in a heartbeat, in a single flashing, throbbing moment." -Sarah Dessen</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Signed, Sealed, Delivered (I'm Yours)

**Author's Note:**

> These are my drabbles for the Last Drabble Standing competition. I was lucky enough to make it up to week 6. 
> 
> beta'd by [ Heather ](http://haveyoumethoward.tumblr.com) as always.

Prompt: return to sender  
Word count: up to 300 words 

Eames huffs and slams the mailbox shut, flipping through his mail. Another familiar envelope. He rubs a thumb over the blue stamp, in Russian this time. "Вернуть отправителю."

Return to Sender.

Eames has a shoebox filled with dozens of these letters, all with the same message in different languages. He flips through the rest as he jogs up the stairs, the wood creaking beneath him.

He stops short just inside the doorway. He recognizes that waistcoat and he sucks in a deep breath. Arthur turns to face him with a dimpled smile. He has an unfolded letter in his hands, Eames' spindly handwriting skittering across the page. There are other opened envelopes and leaves of papers littered across the rickety table.

"Darling," Eames feels his emotions threatening to choke him.

"You could have just emailed me, Eames."

Eames shrugs, turning his head away. He feels Arthur approach him, and he slumps against the door, helpless to heated skin and wet kisses. Arthur takes over, has them both naked and colliding within minutes. Eames bites and tastes, attempting to memorize and mark every inch; he knows that this is only temporary.

Drawn to each others' heat, they sleep curled around each other.

When Eames awakes to the oppressive Kenyan heat, he's alone. He sighs, his chest unbearably heavy again.

He shuffles into his kitchen feeling that something's off, but he can't put his finger on it. The only thing really missing is Arthur. His kitchen table is cleared of everything but one torn envelope - one returned from Indonesia, "Kembali ke Sender."

On the back is a hastily scribbled address. He realizes then that the entire box is missing; Arthur took them all. He grins at his bare feet and his chest loosens for the first time in months.


	2. Sleep. Sex. Pancakes

Genre: high school/college AU  
Prompt: first  
Word count: up to 400 words

Eames' eyes are cemented together and he groans as he peels them open. Last night is a bit of a blur; he remembers Yusuf dragging him to some frat party with dancing and cheap beer. A lot of cheap beer.

His dorm is a mess. There's a tie flung across his lamp and he squints, trying his best not to move his head. He's almost positive he doesn't own a tie. Not one as posh as that anyway. If he did, it'd most certainly have cartoon characters on it.

That's when he realizes how sticky he feels, and his muscles ache in a delicious kind of way. He shifts and feels bruises, his neck feels suspiciously as though it's been mauled.

He gently touches it and presses down on a hot bruise. Sucking in a sharp breath, he rolls over too fast. He shuts his eyes and inhales deeply, before re-opening them cautiously.

A man, a beautiful man, is in his bed, stretched out on his stomach. His dark hair fans across the pillow, his eyelashes rest against his cheeks, and his frankly ridiculous ears back lit by the rising sun.

Eames' cock twitches at the way the sheet rests just above the swell of the stranger's ass. Eames wants to touch him, but this is his first one night stand and he isn't sure of the etiquette.

The man cracks open an eye, and Eames never knew death glares could be a turn on for him.

"Would you stop staring like a creeper?" the man mumbles into his pillow.

"Um. Sorry, darling. I...just can't help it," Eames tries for a cheeky grin, but he's pretty sure he fails.

"Right. Well, let me sleep longer, then we can have more sex. Then breakfast?"

"Oh. That sounds...lovely, actually."

The man grumbles and pushes his face into the pillow.

Eames clears his throat, his face burning. "It's just that, this is incredibly embarrassing, but I don't remember who you are exactly."

The man shrugs, still face down. "So what? I don't remember your name either."

Eames feels an odd mixture of relief and mortification all at once. "It's Eames, by the way."

"Arthur. Nice to meetcha. Now, sleep. Sex. Pancakes."

Eames grins and nods, settling down next to Arthur, who he hopes might be his first and last one night stand.


	3. Please Delete

Genre: Digital epistolary  
Prompt: late nights  
Word count: between 350 and 450 words

To: Arthur's Dream Team  
From: Arthur  
Subject: Financial Reports

Eames,

I have three hours before I have to get up, and I'm so exhausted I can barely function right now. I'm supposed to be analyzing financial reports and sending them to the team, but I can't focus. I can't stop thinking about you and your stupid, smirking mouth. Why do you always get stuck in my brain? It takes me months to get over you between jobs.

I noticed you filled out for this job. You should really buy bigger shirts. The way that god awful, mustard colored shirt stretched across your shoulders yesterday made it impossible to concentrate. I don't remember half of what Cobb said during his debrief because you had a fucking toothpick rolling around in your mouth the whole time. (I'm pretty sure he was just rambling on about his kids again.)

Since I'm never going to actually send this, I need to be honest. I love the way you look, I want to see how much better you'd look spread out beneath me. It's not just how you look, though. You're so fucking smart, and creative; you genuinely leave me in awe, even if you think it's just condescension. Most importantly, you make me laugh. It's cliché, but it's also just that simple. I love you, and want everything with you - work, life, lazy Sunday afternoons.

My therapist says getting it out will help. She might be an idiot.

I'm so pathetic.

Love always,

Arthur.

***

To: Arthur's Dream Team  
From: Arthur  
Subject: Previous Email

Please delete without reading.

***

From: Cobb  
To: Arthur  
Subject: RE: Financial Reports

This sounds like a terrible idea, Arthur. He'll only hurt you. Also, shouldn't it be Cobb's Dream Team?

P.S No, I wasn't talking about my kids the entire time. Just part of it. I can't help it if my kids are adorable and people want to hear about them.

***

From: Ari  
To: Arthur  
Subject: RE: Financial Reports

*clasps hands* This is amazing! Has Eames said anything yet?!

***

From: Yusuf  
To: Arthur  
Subject: RE: Financial Reports

Finally! Godspeed, and be safe!

***

From: Saito  
To: Arthur  
Subject: RE: Financial Reports

Mr. Saito is currently on vacation. He will reply to you at his earliest convenience.

 

***

From: Eames  
To: Arthur  
Subject: RE: Financial Reports

Why didn't you just say so, darling? I'll be over in ten. Ta!

***

To: Arthur's Dream Team  
From: Arthur  
Subject: Day off

I'm too sick to come to work today. Eames is sick too. Both of us are very sick. Very contagious, don't visit.


	4. Necessary Evil

Prompt: roleplay  
Word count: between 400 and 500 words

Arthur frowns at his reflection in the mirror, his hands moving over his tie in sharp movements.

"I hate this, Eames."

Eames comes up behind him, dressed only in dark briefs, his torso still slippery from the shower. Arthur stops moving and just watches, wishing he had time to get him dirty again.

"I know, but let's not take it out on the tie, darling," Eames presses up against Arthur's back, a line of heat and damp, and knocks Arthur's hands away, tying his tie in swift, gentle movements.

"You're going to get my shirt wet," Arthur complains, but doesn't move.

"Then I guess we'll just take it off," he wraps his hands around Arthur's waist.

"I wish, but we really don't have time," he tilts his head back against Eames' shoulder and angles for a kiss; Eames obliging him hot and open mouthed. Arthur groans and pulls back reluctantly.

"Later. I'll need it after a day of pretending to hate you."

Eames bites him gently on the neck, but steps away and begins looking for his pants. Arthur ogles Eames when he bends over to rifle through his suitcase. He laughs when Eames looks back and winks, wiggling his butt a little.

They finish getting dressed, Arthur sitting on the edge of the bed watching Eames, his shoulders slumping further and his mouth twisting into a frown.

Eames reaches down and cups Arthur's chin, lifting his head.

"I know, love. But it's a necessary evil. I'd rather spend a few hours sniping at you than let unfamiliar criminals know that you mean everything to me, and therefore can be used against me. We all have our little roles to play and this, today, is ours."

Eames kisses him firmly and releases his face.

"I know it is. I just...hate it."

"Me too. Just remember that whenever I complain about that stick up your arse, what I'm really saying is 'I love you madly and forever.'"

"I love you too."

He tugs Eames down and hits the bed with a muffled 'oof.' Arthur takes his time to show Eames just how much he means it using his mouth and tongue.

They end up having to change, making them late, but Arthur doesn't care.

***

Later that day, he's ready to tear his hair out after attempting to explain paradoxes to the brand new architect, who pops her gum and nods blankly at him.

Eames slaps him on the shoulder and grins widely at NotAriadne (as Arthur has dubbed her) and leans into her space.

"Don't mind him, love. Arthur has a rather large stick up his arse."

NotAriadne covers her mouth and giggles.

Arthur just barely hides his smile as he leans back into Eames' space for a second, before schooling his face into a twisted frown.

"Get back to work, Mr. Eames."

Eames walks off with a grin, his hands in his pockets, whistling casually, looking satisfied in the knowledge that their secret is safe for another day.


	5. The Worst Kind of Hate

Genre: Pre-movie  
Prompt: “That isn’t particularly reassuring.”  
Word count: up to 350 words

Eames is infuriating. Arthur hates him and his stupid face, and his consistently brilliant ideas. It's a seething you're-beautiful-and-you-challenge-me kind of hate. So, you know, the worst kind.

After the job, Eames is still here, leaning back in his office chair, chewing on a pen and tracking Arthur with his grey-blue eyes. Eames has the kind of face that makes it look as though he's one second from laughing at you, and it makes Arthur feel prickly.

"So, Arthur, love. What brought you into this business?"

Arthur pauses in his shredding and levels a stare at him.

"I'm disappointed in you, Mr. Eames."

"Oh? Why's that?" Eames leans further back, spreading his legs apart. Arthur ignores it, swallowing.

"Small talk? Is that really what you want to do?" Arthur gathers the papers off the desk in front of Eames. From here he can smell him; like shitty hand rolled cigarettes, and the sharp smell of ink.

"No. That is decidedly not what I want to do," Eames' voice drops lower, and Arthur feels the rasp of it running up his spine.

Eames touches Arthur's arm where his sleeves are carefully rolled up. He turns, and Eames is standing right in his space. All he wants to do is step closer.

He reaches up both hands and slides them across Eames' collarbones, thumbing at tattoos he can only guess the shapes of. His fingers slip under the collar and Eames gasps.

They're the same height so it's an easy step forward and then they're kissing. Eames kisses back and opens to Arthur's tongue without effort. Arthur bites gently at his mouth and tastes copper before stepping back.

He straightens his waistcoat and chews nervously on his lip.

"I'm sorry, Mr. Eames. That won't happen again."

Before he turns away, Eames grabs him by the waist and hauls him back, Arthur's hands pressed against his chest between them.

"That isn’t particularly reassuring." Eames murmurs quietly against his mouth before kissing him, this time harder and with decidedly more teeth.


	6. It's For Science

Prompt: experiment  
Word count: up to 400 words

Eames seems fine when he wakes from one of Yusuf's experiments; in fact, he'd reported that his projections were almost too docile.

Until lunch.

"You know, I've always hated mayonnaise. It reminds me of pus."

Ariadne swallows and rewraps her sandwich, while Eames cheerfully bites into his own.

"Arthur, darling, I've decided that you should drop more things."

"What."

"You should drop more things. I do so love to watch you bend over in your tight trousers," Eames looks off into the distance.

"Yusuf, We have a problem," Arthur scowls, fighting the rising blush.

"Oh, love, your ears are a terribly becoming shade of red right now."

"Shut up, Eames," Arthur grits out.

"I get so turned on when you're hostile, it's almost like a Pavlovian response. You've conditioned me."

Eames' smile is wide and cheerful. Arthur has never seen him like this - all crooked teeth and crinkled eyes.

Arthur glares pointedly at Ariadne who's trying desperately not to laugh, her shoulders shaking.

"Shut up, Ari, and eat your ham and pus sandwich."

"Rude," Ariadne mutters.

"Yusuf!" Arthur's voice cracks.

"It's for science, Arthur," Yusuf spreads his hands and shrugs.

"How long?"

"Oh, who knows really?"

"This is serious!" Arthur points furiously, trying to ignore the happy sounds Eames is making.

"Is it really? It's only honesty. Is that so terrible?"

"Yes! It fucking is!"

"We'll just have to wait," he turns to Eames. "Can you keep yourself from blurting everything, mate?"

"Maybe. But I don't want to. It feels lovely and freeing to not filter myself. I hate cats," he stretches his arms above his head.

Yusuf makes an injured noise and crosses his arms. "You're going to have to take him somewhere else if he's going to be astonishingly rude."

"Why me?!"

"Why not you, poppet? I'd love it if you took me home. I've always wanted to wake up next to you. Everyday - in a way that we take for granted, and kiss with morning breath, and I'll make you coffee just how you like it, and we'll eat toast, and I'll steal bits of the paper from you. That sounds lovely, doesn't it?"

Arthur immediately softens all over.

"Yeah, it does, Eames," he tucks himself under one of those big, tattooed arms.

"Come on. And once this wears off I'm going to need you to repeat all that."

"Gladly, my love."

**Author's Note:**

> My [ tumblr. ](http://sweetbutterbliss.tumblr.com) Come visit, prompts, questions, anon hate. All welcome.


End file.
